


honey dipper

by woahpip



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Black Eagle recruit Lysithea, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Foot Fetish, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War Phase, Vaginal Sex, and then some hurt again, mashing whatever parts of canon i want together, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24352138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/pseuds/woahpip
Summary: They needed to talk more. They needed to talk this out, before they did anything they might regret.
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	honey dipper

*

It had been a few years since the end of war. Lysithea was crestless in Almyra, making up for lost time.

She was fucking drunk, and she saw a man that looked like Claude. He was taller than her, but not too tall. Dark tan, arms built like he works out. Not overly muscled. Well trimmed beard. The man squinted in her direction, like he needed to see her but he’s slowly destroyed his eyesight by reading in the dark.

She liked a man that read. Claude had always liked to read, historical accounts of wars past, tactician books, “plants that can kill 101.” Sometimes she saw him flip through erotica that had been dropped in the library. She made fun of him for that, but liked that he took a break to laugh. He always held himself together in front of others, but some weeks she never saw him laugh genuinely.

And then she left. She didn’t like thinking of how often he laughed then.

It wasn’t until she got right on top of the man that she realized it was Claude von Riegan himself.

*

He wanted to ask her so many questions.

_Why did you leave? We could’ve helped you. We were your friends. Did you miss us, while you were on their side? Did you think of us?_

Instead he lets the small head take over.

“Fuck,” he said once Lysithea closes the door to her hotel room. It was just across from the bar and the walk wasn’t long enough to sober them up or make them think of the consequences. She’s got his back against the door and her mouth on this neck. 

She’s mumbling something, incoherent words, long drawn out phrases he desperately wants to catch but can’t.

“Do you still read Claude?” he finally picked out.

“Everything I can get my hands on. I have a lot of extra time to waste these days. And Lysi?”

She hummed, lips tingling against his collarbone.

“My name’s not Claude.”

*

Khalid fit him better. She rolled it around in her mouth, wording it silently. Savoring the opportunity for a new first meeting. He was sort of the same but different; so was she.

“I’m not dying anymore, Khalid.”

She pushes him onto the bed, unmade from her lie-in this morning.

“You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.”

It was worth her defecting. If it was the price he had to pay for her to live, it was worth it.

*

Before she could start doing whatever she wanted, he flipped over.

“Still small,” he laughed at her.

She huffed but it turned into a laugh of her own. Things were falling into place. Turning into her girlhood fantasies:

_Claude teases me about something. Maybe he’s mean but realizes what he’s done, or maybe it’s a simple tease: I’m small. I’m still growing, I need my beauty sleep._

_And then instead of going to bed alone he’ll come with me and I’ll never sleep, it’ll be nothing but us and the awkwardness of skin and the terrifying part of him seeing her at her base level, and her him._

_It would feel like magic, maybe like being drunk. She shut out everything that said, “sex aint always that good.”_

Her fantasies never accounted for war and a chance for revenge. A chance to be saved. Nobody could do it but her, and Edelgard who knew her pain and had the power to make people work. 

Now she gave herself over to whatever she wanted, because she had planned nothing while she was dying. And she didn’t plan on _Khalid_ reappearing, and touching him and kissing him and him not hating her.

_It’s the alcohol Lysithea_ she thought. _Or maybe he did…feel for me back then, too._

*

“Of course you’d have candy stars next the bed.”

He straddled her waist and massaged her belly, fingers roaming over the spaces in her ribcage. The purple and white dress she wore, so similar to the last outfit he saw her in except without the blood, had buttoned in the front. He undid them all, carefully working from top to bottom. Lysithea sucked on her candy, one by one so not to choke while she laid down. She grinned as he stared— she had to know he watched her eat candy back in their Academy days.

He wonders what else she knew about him.

She hadn’t worn a bra and he was thankful to whatever goddess or spirit would listen. He pinched a nipple and she keened. Her tongue flit out to wet her bottom lip and he scooped down to taste her himself.

Their kissing is messy. He probably needs to use his toothbrush, ale stains on his teeth. She tastes of sugar, sweet like in his darkest dreams. _Life does give gifts_ he thought.

He’s got a hand on her hip and one tugging her hair. They kiss and kiss, mouths clattering. It’s hard. There’s a point he loosens his grip on her hair but she whines out “no” and when he pulls harder she gives a soft “Khalid…”

It was scary, how good she was. Whenever he thought of seeing her again, he never imagined she say his real name like _that_.

*

There wasn’t time to strip Khalid. She popped some buttons on his shirt but quickly switched focus to his pants. He hung heavy in his smallclothes, hard to the touch.

It was powerful, being with him like this.

“You’re still a safe place,” she uttered before taking his cock out.

He got the memo, not wasting time pulling his pants all the way down.

“Of course I am,” he said. Then he thrusted in.

He found it in himself to slow things down. She threw her legs over his shoulders, feet near his ears, and he turned his head to lick the arch of her foot.

She moaned, barely audible. “Of course you’d have a fucking foot fetish.”

“Just for your little feet.”

The banter was fine but Lysithea worked hard not to let her drunk brain spill everything she wanted to say. It didn’t work.

“I feel so _full,_ Khalid.” He shifted her legs to his waist so he could kiss her mouth, move down to her neck.

“I wanna cover you in bruises. Someone’s going to ask you what happened.”

“You, I-I’ll tell them you.”

He went back to pinching her nipples, still kissing up her neck towards her earlobe. His hips moved quick, and groaned into her ear.

She was close already, a perk of being piss drunk. Maybe they could go again.

_Maybe in the morning…if he is still here._

She licks her fingers and goes to rub her clit but he’s moved above her again, grabs her hand.

“May I?”

She does nothing but nod as he slides her fingers in his mouth, his cool tongue on the pads of her fingers, her knuckles. He sucks hard and then lets her go.

“Now you can touch.”

He moved faster, pulling her legs again to angle her _just right._

In between grunts and her own desperate moaning he said “I’ve…dreamt of this before. Never thought I’d get the chance…to see you again.”

She came right as he said that and felt nothing but shame.

*

In the morning there’s a cup of water by her bed. The air condition is high as it can go; condensation drips in the hotel window. She’s still wearing her unbuttoned dress, her panties on the ground.

Claude…Khalid…was not in the room. Lysithea checked the bathroom just in case, but the door was wide open.

He left. She had come here to find him, was so disappointed to hear he abdicated another throne and the royal family had no idea where he was. No one she spoke to knew.

In a moment of weakness she went to the bar and found him. Now, he’s lost again.

She stared in the mirror at her neck, covered in love bites. She thought of his tongue all over.

If she could do it again she’d be sober, she would’ve rode him to death, she wouldn’t have let him leave.

_Breakfast pastry and latte. Then another cry. Then pay for a few more nights in this hotel._ she catalogued her to-do list.

Once the bar re-opened she’d go back over and interrogate the manager. 

Maybe Claude was a regular. Maybe she’d see him again tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a brain worm inspired by the songs Dress and Radio by Sylvan Esso.
> 
> specifically:  
> You look good in the west, see how you clap those hands  
> You look good in the south, see how you use your mouth  
> You look good in the east, all elbows and knees  
> To the honey dipper, to the sound shifter  
> Oh dont you know you want to  
> \--from Dress
> 
> Gonna eat all the candy while you straddle and lay me  
> \--from Radio.
> 
> I wanted it to be just porny and not angsty but here we are. Maybe I'll write him coming back. I'm new to writing smut so send me some concrit or your favorite erotica or something.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! (i'm woahpip on tumblr)


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